


Perfection - Because puppets do not love

by Kiikii74



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki - Freeform, Death, F/M, Heart, Human, Loss, Love, Mistakes, Puppeteer, Puppets, Wall - Freeform, mission, perfection, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiikii74/pseuds/Kiikii74
Summary: Perfect.That's what Sasori of the Red Sand has always wanted to be and it nearly seems as if he's as close to his goal as never before.But where is the difference between perfection and imperfection and what price does he have to pay to finally achieve his goal?------------------------------------Text excerpt:Probably soon he won't even remember her name."Kazumi," Sasori forms silently with his lips.He's even quite sure he'll forget it. It'll fade away like the memory of her scent and the image of her happy smile.It wouldn't be the first time that the redhead has forgotten features of certain people.But it's definitely the first time that the very thought of it terrifies him.
Relationships: Sasori/Kazumi, Sasori/Original Female Character
Kudos: 11





	1. Mistakes are human

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Everyone struggeling with perfection](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Everyone+struggeling+with+perfection).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because there is no human being who is free from error. No one is perfect.  
> The ninja from Suna-Gakure is absolutely sure of that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perfection comes from our mistakes. That is what makes us human.
> 
> \- Unknown

It hurts to be alone.

It hurts to lose people close to you. People you thought would never leave you, but stay with you for all eternity.

No matter how naive that thought is, when you consider that everything eventually comes to an end.

Sasori of the Red Sand had to learn this first and most important lesson at a very early age.  
Day after day, night after night, as he sat patiently by the window in his room and peered out into the empty streets in expectation that his parents would return soon.  
As he realized that his grandmother's smile, which she always showed him, was forced and false.  
As weeks went by without news, without a single sign of life.  
When Sasori realized that his parents would never come home again to him because they had been killed in battle.

This incident in his early childhood shaped the boy for his whole life.  
The pain, the suffering, the unbearable waiting and endless hoping...  
With those, his smile died and the joyful shine in his brown eyes disappeared.  
Sasori doesn't often think back to these things of thirty years ago, but when he does, one thought comes to his mind:

It was a mistake.

This naive waiting, this false hope and that he believed all the lies his grandmother told him.  
Lies like "We have to be patient, they will surely come back soon" or "It could be a while before they come back. They had to go on the next mission."  
He believed every word she said, even though he realized even then that it couldn't be true.  
But at that time he wanted to believe her, because the lies were much more bearable than the bitter truth, which finally tore his childish heart apart.  
So much pain...  
So many mistakes...  
Every emotion, the expectations, the loneliness.

It was those mistakes that made Sasori understand the pain of being human.  
And made him think that he doesn't want all of this anymore.  
Mistakes, being human...

No, he realized early on that there are far better creatures than humans.  
Perfect creatures.

His grandmother taught him to play the puppet and this decision is the only one he doesn't blame the old woman for today. Puppets took a central place in his life early on and fascinated the redhead from the very beginning.

Because puppets are everything he wished to be from an early age.  
Free of feelings, flawless, imperishable.

Perfect.

Humans are full of mistakes. They're stupid, they get distracted by so many things, and they're so terribly fragile. Against all logic, against their minds, they choose situations in which they are hurt again and again.  
Emotionally.

Humans disgust him.

But he's not human anymore.  
He feels no pain - not physically.  
He has no wants, no need for food or sleep.  
His body has become what fascinated him even then.  
A puppet.  
Sasori no longer ages, he has locked his feelings together with his still beating heart in a chamber with the intention of repressing them.  
All this with only one goal in mind:

Perfection.

No matter the cost or the time it takes: He will reach it.  
And better sooner than later, because Sasori hates nothing more than waiting.

"Can we go now? I'm really tired of waiting for you to get moving, Deidara," the redhead hisses at the blond man who is picking himself up from the floor and stretching yawning.  
"I'm coming, Sasori no danna. Let me get up at least, un."  
It is still very early in the morning and the first rays of sunlight almost carefully scan the wide meadow that stretches out in front of the two men, as if checking them for danger. Behind the Akatsuki lies thick green and high trees but for their goal they will have to leave the safety of this forest and cross the open track.

Sasori needs no sleep, unlike his team partner. This break, even if only short, was urgently needed, but he doesn't like to take one at all.  
And that's only because otherwise Deidara won't leave him alone.  
This man robs him of his last nerve with his twisted view of art and his self-confident arrogance.

Who does Deidara think he is?  
He's only human.  
Prodigal, rash, and loud.

Full of flaws.

As the two men cross the tall grass, the blond starts talking again.  
"By the way, I still don't understand why we can't just fly into this village on one of my birds, un. It would be much faster."  
"And we'd be spotted immediately. Do you even know the meaning of inconspicuous or secret, brat?"  
This mission is designed to be accomplished without attracting attention. That's also the reason why the two have swapped the typical Akatsuki black coats with the red clouds for simple brown ones, why the puppeteer isn't travelling in his preferred puppet Hiruko - which he doesn't like at all, by the way - and also why he and Deidara got this assignment in the first place.  
Neither Kisame and Itachi nor Hidan and Kakuzu are inconspicuous enough.

It's a mission, based on secrecy and discretion, and yet very simple:

to gather information.

Sasori could have easily accomplished this mission alone without even having to travel to this village himself. He has enough informants, enough ridiculous humans, who take over all kinds of time-consuming errands for him.  
Nevertheless, he is personally on his way and that even with Deidara in tow, who is constantly complaining about his feet aching or being tired. Sometimes Sasori really isn't sure if the blond one is a shinobi at all.

All this effort...  
All that trouble...  
It's all because a certain man insisted and emphasized more than once that this mission is of utmost importance.  
A man who claims to be a god himself, even though Sasori is pretty sure that he is nothing more than a mere human who tries to hide his mistakes.

Because there is no human being who is free from error. No one is perfect.   
The ninja from Suna-Gakure is absolutely sure of that.


	2. Perfection is relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no perfect life - Only perfect moments in each life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humanity may be messed up and more than often show its worst side, but there is something good in every human being and that is what makes a person human.

Kazumi just loves the early hours of the morning.

She simply loves everything about them. The sight of the first rays of sunlight that bathe everything in a warm, golden light as soon as the sun appears on the horizon, the cool breeze that almost playfully runs through the young girl's fair hair, the glistening of the crystal-clear water surface that curls slightly, as well as the fresh dew on the bright green grasses of the wide meadow and the soft chirping of individual birds.

For Kazumi, there is hardly anything more beautiful than moments like these, and the 16-year-old enjoys them to the full.   
On mornings like this, she loves to sit in front of the small lake behind her home town and let her thoughts run free, while her bare feet touch the cool water and the difference in temperature makes her skin tingle slightly.

It is perfect.

This view, the atmosphere, the whole mood....   
A perfect moment in a not always so flawless life.

The death of her mother taught the girl early on that just such moments are more precious than any treasure, because these occasions are rare and should be enjoyed whenever they present themselves.   
Before it is too late, because at some point everything comes to an end.

Sometimes she wishes that such moments were forever.   
That time could just stand still.   
That she could somehow save this beauty and completeness for all eternity.   
That this perfection would never fade away.   
But Kazumi is quite realistic. No matter how much she wishes for it or how often she secretly dreams about it:

There is no such thing as eternal beauty.

Any kind of completion, of perfection, will eventually pass away.   
Perhaps in a second, two hours, five months or thirty years....   
At some point it will be over and this thought makes the girl incredibly sad again and again.   
Secretly, the girl dreams of perfect beauty, eternal perfection.

But what is perfect?

This view?   
For Kazumi it certainly is.   
Others may find the birds disturbing or the water too cold.   
Who knows?   
Everyone thinks something else is perfect, incorrigible and absolutely ideal.

Perfection is relative.

It is in the eye of the beholder and has as many faces as names.

Sighing, Kazumi rises and contemplates the scene in front of her eyes for a moment before turning away with a heavy heart. Still barefoot and with her shoes in her hands, she crosses the thick grass, which tickles lightly on her bare feet, and walks towards the small group of houses. 

She definitely wants to be home by the time her father gets up. He doesn't like her "dancing around", as he calls it.   
Since her mother's death, he has become exceedingly particular about such things, which is perhaps due to the saké he enjoys in large quantities. Partly to fill up the hole in his heart and partly to forget about it.   
Kazumi loves her father. She really does, but when he is drunk he seems to be a different person. No longer kind and obliging as before, but loud, abusive and sometimes aggressive. Then he is no longer her father, but almost a stranger.   
And that frightens her.

The young girl runs hurriedly across the meadow and determinedly towards a small hut on the edge of the village. The already light-coloured wood is also faded by the sun, looks a bit rotten and the grey-brown clay tiles on the roof have already seen better days. And yet the small house does not stand out, as the rest of the buildings are in no better condition. Quietly and carefully, Kazumi opens the door and peers into the dark hallway.   
No sound is heard outside and without further hesitation she enters her parents' house before quietly placing her shoes next to the door. Tiptoeing down the hallway and up a narrow wooden staircase, the girl climbs past the third step, which would otherwise creak treacherously under her body weight. Arriving on the first floor, she cautiously glances through her father's open bedroom door and discovers him lying on his stomach in bed. Three empty bottles are on the floor in front of the frame and one more is on the bedside table next to her father. His breathing is calm and steady and Kazumi cautiously sneaks on. At the end of the corridor is her room and quietly the girl closes the door behind her before breathing a sigh of relief. 

She has made it. 

She glances briefly at the sparse furnishings, consisting of a bed, a wardrobe and a small bedside table, before she sits down on the edge of her bed. The warm rays of the sun enter through the window and Kazumi can also hear a few birds singing here. Very softly, but the chirping brings a smile to her face, which grows even wider as a small red tomcat purrs and presses himself against her legs. Akito must have been sleeping in her room and she carefully lifts the pet up to put it on her lap. For some time now, the well-behaved cat has been her only friend, best listener and closest confidant.  
This is only natural for Kazumi, because she has more in common with animals than with most humans.  
Animals are loyal, faithful and always know exactly how to get something over, even without words. In contrast, humans usually talk too much and their seemingly inherent self-destructive streak harms not only themselves but also everyone around them, including nature. For their principles they fight their own families, for their pride they kill their brothers.

Humans are stupid.

Animals kill only what they need to survive. They live with nature, not against it.  
Kazumi wonders if humans will ever change for the better.  
With their eternal, never-ending hunger for more and more?  
More power.  
More money.  
More satisfaction of cravings, whether alcohol or fleshly desires.  
More fame.  
More prestige.

People disgust her.  
And yet...  
People can be kind and generous.  
They can maintain close bonds with their families and friends.  
They can love - from the bottom of their hearts and with all their souls.

Humanity may be messed up and more than often show its worst side, but there is something good in every human being and that is what makes a person human. These ups and downs of feelings prove to you that you are really alive and somehow make every person perfect.

Kazumi is absolutely sure of that.


	3. Perfect creatures lack flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a brief moment, the girl wonders if he is even human. Whether a human being can be so perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little things are what make perfection, but perfection is anything but a little thing.

They have finally arrived.

The sun is already high in the sky as a small, idyllic group of houses appears in front of Sasori and Deidara. In the redhead's opinion, the journey had taken far too long. The constant pauses and the seemingly eternal chatter of his team partner have stretched the way to the point of unbearability, and he has already almost eagerly awaited their arrival.  
Yet Scorpion hates waiting more than anything.  
"We'll split up," the puppeteer decides, barely noticeably taking a step faster.  
He wants to get this boring and, in his eyes, unnecessary mission over with as soon as possible, so that he can finally devote himself to his great goal again.

Perfection.

Right now he is working on new plans, new weapons and poisons to improve himself even more. To be complete and absolutely flawless. The last thing he could actually need right now is distraction.

"If it is what you want, danna. It can't take too long here anyway. Aren't that many houses, un."  
Monotonously, the redhead nods and when the two men have reached the small village, Deidara turns left while Sasori goes right.  
Slowly he walks along the crumbling path of old cobblestone, which is probably meant to serve as a connection between the buildings. His gaze sweeps calculatingly over each of the dilapidated houses. It is an exceedingly poor village, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the tall grass of wide meadows and cut off from the rest of the world. Deidara is mistaken if he actually thinks that this mission can be completed quickly. Such a village will certainly not easily reveal information, as the villagers are guaranteed to be anything but open to any strangers.  
The few people the puppeteer gets to see eye him suspiciously and fearfully. They don't even bother to hide their distrust, which clearly confirms Sasori's theory. Apparently not many visitors come here, which doesn't surprise the redhead at all. Here in this village, if it can be called such at all, there is nothing worth mentioning. The puppeteer walks further and further along the path until he finally arrives at the other end of the group of houses. He crosses a meadow again and finds himself on the shore of a small lake. The crystal blue water is clear and refracts the sun's rays in a zillion colors, or so it seems. For a moment, Sasori pauses to watch the spectacle of the light wind rippling the surface, making it sparkle like a thousand diamonds. He has to admit that he likes the view.

"Isn't it perfect?" a soft voice rings out, and only now does the puppeteer notice the person sitting in the tall grass at the water's edge. It is a girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old. Fair hair graces her head in many curls and barely covers her shoulders while bright blue eyes look at him warmly and a small smile lies on her delicately curved lips.  
She is beautiful, just like the lake she sits by. With her even face and bright eyes.

Perfect.

This view?  
Sasori averts his gaze from the girl and back to the lake.  
"You're right... It's not."  
In the corner of his eye, he can see the stranger blink a few times in wonder before her smile shrinks a bit.  
She's so easy to read.  
This human...  
Every emotion, every thought is reflected on her face and it doesn't trouble Sasori to know what's going on inside her. It's so obvious. Humans are far too easily offended when someone else disagrees with them. This stranger, too, will now state her opinion, will justify it, explain it and try to convince him by all means of the opposite of his statement.  
At least that's what he thinks until the moment she opens her mouth and he actually already expects the girl to defend her opinion now.  
"True. If it were perfect, it would never fade away."

Eternal beauty.

This affirmation, this statement, makes the puppeteer jump his gaze back to the girl. Did she actually say that? Can a young little thing like her from a village on the edge of the world really have such an understanding of beauty and perfection? Can she share his view of art?  
"What's your name, girl?"  
"Kazumi." she answers without hesitation.

Kazumi is not afraid of the stranger who seems to have strayed to this lake by chance. She is much more fascinated by the young man.

He is perfect.

His skin is light and even like porcelain, his way of moving smooth and yet purposeful. His voice is pleasantly soft and yet resonates with a strange depth. He seems proud and self-assured, but without really appearing arrogant.

He is too perfect.

The stranger lacks flaws. He is too smooth, too beautiful, his words chosen with too much deliberation, facial expressions and gestures reduced to a minimum. As if he is afraid to say or do something wrong. Something that could destroy this image of perfection.  
Kazumi is not afraid of him and yet he instills respect in her.  
It's his eyes.  
The look of his brown eyes that is empty and cold and seems to be studying her closely. As if he can look into her head and read her thoughts and at the same time, as if they don't interest him in the slightest. Uncaring and without any emotion.  
For a brief moment, the girl wonders if he is even human. If a human can be so perfect.  
"May I ask what your name is?" it finally escapes her lips as the redhead just continues to stand there unmoving, rigid as a doll, still looking at her with that expression without saying anything.  
"You may."

Kazumi is confused, but only for a moment. She quickly regains her composure and gives the stranger a friendly smile.  
"Well... What's your name?"  
"Sasori."  
The girl nods barely before rising and walking towards the stranger. She comes to a stop in front of him, and though he towers over her by barely five inches and must be her age from the looks of it, a quiet feeling creeps over her that he is older than he looks.  
"So, Sasori. Shall I show you the village?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading this story of mine.  
> English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes you may find. I hope you still had fun reading it.
> 
> Your Kiikii


End file.
